Haunting Me, Consoling Me
by SashaElizabeth
Summary: Jane's POV after tragedy. Songfic based on "I Would Like To Call It Beauty" by Corinne Bailey Rae. Oneshot. Please R&R.


_**Haunting Me, Consoling Me**_

_A/N: I don't own any of the characters; they belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT. The song "I Would Like To Call It Beauty" belongs to Corinne Bailey Rae, released on her album "The Sea." However, it is my inspiration for this songfic, as I listened to it while writing other stories, it began to create a story of its own. All lyrics are in italics._

Autumn had quickly changed into an early winter, as harsh as could be expected in Boston's unforgiving northeastern climate. Jane sat motionless behind the wheel of her car one morning in early December, unsure if she could bring herself to get out and face the world. She didn't want to show emotion in front of others, as she considered it a sign of weakness. Therefore, Jane rarely let her guard down.

Searching for a way to kill time before she had to go inside, Jane glanced down at the car stereo and saw a CD sticking out of the drive. She absentmindedly pushed it in and an unfamiliar song began to play.

_So young for death, we walk in shoes too big. _  
_But you play it like a poet, like you always did. _  
_And I lay face upturned on the palm of God, _  
_pushed on by the fingertips of dreams, _  
_they're haunting me, consoling me. _

Even though it had been nearly three months since the standoff with Marino at headquarters, Jane still felt an ache in her body and an even deeper one in her soul. That day on September had changed her entire world. On that fateful morning, before the shootings, she could have never imagined what a few hours could change; how one day could transform so quickly into a nightmare. It was filled with regular events and concerns that now seemed so trivial. Jane started her day in the gym, working out with Maura, who had embarrassed her by staring at a guy on the free-weight bench. Once Maura commented rather loudly on the man's wonderfully developed musculature, Jane had welcomed the interruption of her cell phone ringing. The reason for the call, however, immediately threw Jane into a tailspin. Her older brother Tommy was being released from prison on another DUI charge, and their parents were planning a party for him at The Dirty Robber. Who would plan a party for an alcoholic in a bar? Both Frankie and Jane were immediately against the idea, planning to skip the party without question.

Frankie. The mere thought of his name still made Jane freeze and feel as if she were about to drown in her grief. He had died upon arriving at the hospital. Due to the extent of her own injuries, Jane had been unconscious for three days and had finally learned of her brother's death nearly a week after it had occurred. The doctor had told them that if even Frankie had gone into surgery immediately after bleeding into his chest, it would still have been too late. The damage was merely too extensive. And now one of the people Jane had thought would always be around was gone.

_You slept a sigh like the angels speak, _  
_and we danced into tomorrow on bleeding feet. _  
_And I had thought that I would die here, _  
_but you pushed me on, _  
_you pushed me on, _  
_you pushed me on. _

So many nights Jane had dreamed of Frankie, that she was trying to pull him away from the chaos at headquarters into a new day without death, free of bullets flying and stealing life. Yet she constantly awoke from the dreams to face another day of colorlessness. She fought day and night to keep her feelings inside, not to cry. Even following his death, she wanted to be strong for her little brother. This is how it was all of their lives, so why change it now? Jane was torn between staying in the car, stuck in her thoughts, or getting out and risk letting her resolve crumble.

_You can keep it all locked up in your leaden chest,_  
_or you can lay mouth open on the water's edge. _  
_But all your angels and your God will stitch and wash you. _

It was only natural that stitching and washing would hurt, tears would come. Perhaps just in the privacy of her car, Jane could let them heal instead of create shame. Perhaps letting it go could help, as long as no one knew or saw her. Perhaps...

_Oh, I would like to call it beauty,  
Strained as love's become, it still amazes me.  
And I would like to call it beauty._

Jane openly sobbed at the song's end. For Frankie. For herself. For everyone whose lives had changed that horrible September afternoon. She had allowed herself to lay at the edge of that soothing, cooling water. Maybe she would one day see beauty in the day to day world again. It would not be the same, but it could still be worthy of appreciation.


End file.
